I’m not allowed to think myself alone
and struggling to find where I belong
Each effort to invent myself will fall
as sure as piles of sand against the sea.
So it is with things I haven’t done
and times I’ve been so proud, and been so wrong
There never was a chance for them at all
as long as I had hopes to rescue me.
A precious part of Love’s unique design
is how the loss of what I have called mine
will reset my assumptions, so I find
identity at one with the divine.
So, meekly cleansed, I then can lift my face
to Love’s bright pattern and my perfect place.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 22, 2011
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